Time of Trial

The night before last (as of this writing) our sweet Arahata exploded. These past two weeks have been a trial by fire for me, as there’s been nothing but tragedy and turmoil. In Arahata specifically, the conflict has centered squarely on relations between assistants, particularly Carly. Apparently, Carly has worked in mental health before, more than likely in a care-giving role. Here at L’arche, however, we’re assistants, not care-givers. I think she’s having trouble making the transition, probably due to her prior experience with the disabled. Although this is highly ironic, my inexperience is the quality that’s actually helping me most to cope with life at L’arche. Never underestimate the power of being woefully underqualified for something, because it can completely save you. And there’s another bit to remember: Look for the irony. Irony is a clue that something is amiss, often within oneself. Listen for irony and you’ll find wisdom. As a matter of fact, I think sheer and simple irony has revealed more wisdom to me than any philosopher or theologian ever could, but that’s a lesson for another time. For now, let’s get back to underqualification. It’s becoming clear that, coming simply with my Self and my deepest vulnerabilities and wounds, I have a very large margin of teachability. I’ve been unexpectedly complimented on my work here several times and every time the word ‘teachable’ comes into use. Yet, the only reason for the existence of this beneficial quality is that I’m still a greenhorn. Fresh off the plane, “Your wish is my command,” became my general outlook. If Michele or Brenda had asked me to move a mountain, then I would have at least attempted it. (Incidentally, they did exactly that when I was given sole charge of the house for a day.) There is the darker side, the unknown parts, of being new. Despite the good that newness brings, make no mistake, living in community as a greenie is uber-scarry. What if there’s a fire? What if someone chokes on their food? How is medication distributed? Are core members OK to leave the house by themselves? What do I need to cook for dinner? How does laundry work around here? From the extremely bogus to the extremely banal, being underqualified is no picnic and is a serious cause of sleepless nights, soreness, stiffness, awkwardness, and the occasional catastrophic misjudgment (and subsequent guilt trip).

But all of that stuff; for all the problems that being underqualified causes, is nowhere near as problematic as being unteachable. Among assistants here, being unteachable creates an aura of tension, both psychological and muscular. If core members need help with something, then we help them. Helping out core members is what we get paid for as assistants. At the same time, however, there is a season for every kind of help. If core members can do something on their own (like making lunch in Kim and Leighanne’s case) then it actually becomes very unhelpful to intervene and provide assistance. In terms of the mental health and disability sectors, L’arche works under the “Empowerment Model.” A big part of that in Arahata is the enforcement of boundaries. Carly, however, won’t do it, not yet anyway. Instead, her care-giving nature takes over and she ends up coddling the core members as if they were babies. Alot of assistants, myself included, make this mistake. Culturally, it's a natural bad habit. It’s worth note here that both of our core members are middle-aged women. We don’t call them “sweetie” or “darling” because that would be like calling my mom by those names, which is just plain creepy, disability or no.

To invoke my undergraduate thesis for a moment, I think that our cultural desire for charity, especially as a manifestation of power, needs to be seriously wounded. L’arche communities are the places for such transformation. I understand the desire for emotional security, but, for God’s sake (literally) people, give it a rest. All that disempowering, co-dependent behavior only creates creates heaps of tension and anxiety. This is true in a social sense, a communal sense, and a personal one. Try as we might have to keep things under wraps, the situation in Arahata was like a powder keg and a few nights ago it went off. We hit a wall. The camel’s back was broken.

I was making pizza for dinner (which, much to my surprise, was quite good) and I was almost finished baking it when Brenda decided that she wanted to put a little music on. She put on a CD and selected a song. One of our core members (who likes to be in control of the stereo) didn’t want to hear it, so she tried to change the CD to a different track. Brenda compromised with her: “We’ll listen to this one first and then, after that, you can pick what you’d like.” This particular core member agreed with her, which stopped her from trying to steal the stereo, but didn’t stop her from sulking. I’ve learned in the past week that sulking is, in many cases, actually a clever emotional smoke screen which people just use as a bid for power. Brenda knows this and has therefore been working to establish some boundaries in this area for our house. If the assistants don’t give in, then core members realize that they can’t push everyone around emotionally. Eventually, the sulking person just kind of gets over whatever was bothering them. The curtain comes down; the show ends. A half-hour later, we're usually finished sulking and ready for jokes and laughter again; obviously, nothing too traumatic.

I learned this lesson (yet again) yesterday, when trying to get Kim to put on her boots. Brenda simply knows our core member better than most, especially Carly and I. But Carly wasn’t going to have any of that. She began to comfort and hug Kim, reinforcing her little sulk. Brenda tried to correct Carly. Carly ignored her. Brenda tried again. Carly still ignored her. Then the shouting match started. This quickly evolved into a barrage of harsh language. Brenda went off and Carly left. Michele was called and we spend the rest of the night doing a few things: calming down our core members, talking with Michele, and praying. Fortunately for us, it was also Open Night of Prayer, a community event of worship which is open to the public and supports L’arche. So directly after that emotional explosion, we left for worship with friends. Certainly strange, but just what the doctor ordered.

We try hard to hide assistant conflicts from our core members. People with disabilities tend to live deeply into community. They need the help of others so often that most of them simply can’t afford the costs of being introverted. The practical upshot is that, because our core members know people on such an intuitive level, they can pick up on and identify with the emotional states of their assistants very quickly. What do you do when your assistants, your friends and caretakers, seem hate each other? You get extremely frightened. You question your security. You cry-a lot; which is exactly what our core members did. Assistants were rattled, but mostly just silent. I...prepared pizza (which was quite good). At present, I’m on my days off, sitting in a sketchy little hostel on the hospital grounds of New Town, Wellington. Carly has gone to be at a convent until our normal house leader, Akiko returns tomorrow. Brenda is at a funeral for her friend who just died in a surfing accident. The next time we see each other, Akiko will be there as well and we’ll have a absolutely chaotic mess to sift through. A lot has happened in the past month. “Surprise, Kiko, the house is in bloody shambles.” We've all literally gone our separate ways and I look forward to a reconvening.

Oh well. For now, it’s good that we all have some time away. As I stated in an earlier post, Sabbath is important, especially in L’arche. And, even though my first two weeks here have been a non-stop roller coaster ride of travesty, it’s been a travesty that I’m proud to own. Worrying about a faithful community of people who really care is still ten times better than worrying about something like required credit hours for graduation, my financial debt load, or the number of hours that I get/have at work. I mean, that stuff is just soul-crushing. Thank God that my pizza turned out OK. I still have much to learn about cooking. Thankfully, Leighanne’s been helping me with that.